Words of Wisdom from Miss Maya about Married Men

They Went Home

They went home and told their wives,
that never once in all their lives,
had they known a girl like me,
But...They went home.

They said my house was licking clean,
no word I spoke was ever mean,
I had an air of mystery,
But...They went home.

My praises were on all men's lips,
they liked my smile, my wit, my hips,
they'd spend one night, or two or three.
But...

--Maya Angelou

I think the poem speaks for itself. For all of my sisters who ever thought about getting involved with a married man, remember at the end of the day, he's going home. Take care of you.

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What I Couldn't Say

Ever wanted to tell someone something, but couldn't bring yourself to utter the words? Because you were unsure or didn't want to reveal how vulnerable he/she made you feel? Because you feared the truth would give away your power? In order to protect yourself from possible disappointment? To keep from sticking your foot in your mouth? It happens, right. Even to the best of us. Times when we could say things that we know would put us on front street so we hold back. I held back and with good reason. The more he talked, the more I realized I had to hold back and act like an adult. Anyway, here's what I couldn't say.

Strummin’ my pain
Singin’ my life
First Roberta,
Then Ms. Hill
Reminded me
Spoke my truth
Made me question
This flesh man
Like strong winds
From the east
From my past
Wakes me
Every day
Keeps me
Through the night
With his words
Promises
Body, mind and heart
Linked together
Passion overflowing
Savors me
In, on, around
Holds me
In his dreams
Feels me
When I speak
Angers me
With secrets
Soothes me
With Baby
Turns my skin
Inside out
Massages
Those parts
I cannot see
Churns my juices
Buttermilk
Spins my soul
Silk
I feel him
He feels me
He fills me
Up, more, over
The top of reason
Beyond logic
Into a future
Clear of signs
No restraints
Deliberately
Intentionally
Carefully
By design
He exists
And I wait
Hope
Pray
His words
His song
My song
My life
Our bodies
Rollover
Merge
Blend
Fuse
Into sweet
Whispers
Lullabies
Synchronous
Longer than
Three days
72 hours
And a day off
To rest
Before his gig ends
Bags packed
Guitar in case
On the next bus
Train
Plane
Leaving Georgia
At midnight
In summertime
When the heat
Waves goodbye
And I forget
The sound of
His voice
My strings
Our song

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